Epilogue 19

They lived in a little flat. It wasn't much, but it was their home. Fresh flowers stolen from the old biddy across the road adorned the window sill, framed by tired, faded curtains that may well have been woven from forgotten cobwebs.

He lay snoring gently on the sofa bed. It had been a long night: trouble with the police, as well as a belligerent punter who'd had too much to drink and had demanded his money back. Kyle had told him to feck off and write to consumer protection if he liked.